


A Willing Sacrifice

by trashbinofdestiny



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Guest appearance by Luna, Humiliation, M/M, blood sucking, old school vampire thrall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2018-12-31 01:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12121659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashbinofdestiny/pseuds/trashbinofdestiny
Summary: When the time came, the newest servant of the demon king walked unaided up the hill overlooking the great hall of Lucis.It had once been the hall of a king: One of the old warriors from the turn of the modern era, who fought the encroaching hordes of demons that swarmed the earth like a wave. Then, being a king simply meant being strong enough to survive. The greatest of those warriors lived on to create the first noble houses, and built new halls, new towns, new cities. The old halls lay forgotten, and many of the kings who lived there lay beneath, their bones yellowing in cavernous tombs.But not all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fill for the kinkmeme.

When the time came, the newest servant of the demon king walked unaided up the hill overlooking the great hall of Lucis.

It had once been the hall of a king: One of the old warriors from the turn of the modern era, who fought the encroaching hordes of demons that swarmed the earth like a wave. Then, being a king simply meant being strong enough to survive. The greatest of those warriors lived on to create the first noble houses, and built new halls, new towns, new cities. The old halls lay forgotten, and many of the kings who lived there lay beneath, their bones yellowing in cavernous tombs.

But not all.

Noctis shivered in his thin white robes, which did little to keep out the chill that rolled over the high, jagged hills of old Lucis, and stopped at a raised stone circle overlooking the ancient hall. There, he stepped in and held his hands to the hooks on either side, and waited patiently while the town priestess chained his wrists.

"By your sacrifice," she said, in a soft, deadened voice. "Our home is free." Noctis tried to catch her eye, but her gaze traveled past him, dropping to his feet. She knelt, and gently pulled off his useless slippers. The stone was cold under his bare feet, and slightly damp.

"Luna," he said. He wished she hadn't chained his hands so soon. "I'll be fine."

The priestess tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and started unbuttoning the top of Noctis' robes. She laid bare the mark that had appeared on Noct's chest three weeks before, when he'd been out running with his friends and the world as he knew it had tilted out of true: A small rune, three intersecting lines followed by a dot that trailed out like an arrow. The sign of blood. It was the mark that came once every hundred years, regular as clockwork, signaling that the time had come for the town to pay its tithe.

"It isn't your fault, Luna," he said. The priestess placed a hand on his cheek, and when she finally looked at him, her eyes swam with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Noctis," she said. "I've sent you to your death."

She left him there, chained to the same circle that the demon king's last servant had been tied to, watching the sun sink over the grey horizon. He'd heard that the last servant had to be dragged to the circle in chains, and her family kept under guard in their home. That year, the harvest had failed, and night fell early for nearly a decade, heralding the approach of creatures that stalked the outskirts of the town, searching for stragglers. He figured that this time, it could go easier if the king were given a willing sacrifice.

He wasn't sure exactly how willing he was, though. As the sun disappeared beneath the crest of the farthest hill, he felt a hot spike of terror in his chest, and subtly pulled at the chains holding him to the circle. They made a terrible grinding sound, but they held, and Noct struggled to steady his breathing.

"Goodness, what's this?"

Noct jolted, and the chains clattered as a tall man, dressed like a vagabond in a grey jacket and a high ruffled collar, crunched over the loose stone of the hillside towards Noct. His hair was dark in the dim light of dusk, but there was the faintest hint of red there, like wine. His face had the definition of an older man who had grown into his looks, with a sharp jawline and soft cheekbones, and his brows were lowered in fierce concern.

"Who did this to you, my boy?" he asked. He approached the circle, and Noct fell uselessly back, hands clenching around the short length of chain.

"You should go," Noct said. "It isn't safe here."

The man smiled. "For you, certainly. Was this some... prank? Something for a stag night, perhaps?"

"What's a stag n—No," Noct said. "No, it's. It's. There's a demon. Sort of. No one's seen him in ages, unless you count people like me, but he takes someone every—hold on, don't touch that!" His voice rose, desperately high, as the man reached for the chain on his right wrist. "Look, I have to stay here, okay? And no one else is allowed up here, 'cause if they are, they'll _die._ Alright? You get it?"

"Not in the slightest," the man said. He leaned against one of the curving slopes of the circle and looked Noct up and down. "I take it this is one of those quaint rustic traditions where they send a pretty little thing up to an altar to starve to death, and then when the crops don't do well, they assume their sacrifice wasn't virginal enough."

"What? No." Noct frowned. "No, this is real."

"Of course it is." The man looked out over the darkening sky. "I expect whatever it is happens at night?"

"That's what they say. So you should really get going."

The man hummed to himself, as though mulling it over. "No," he said, after a slow, awful minute had passed. "I like to think of myself as a man of no consequence, in the grand scheme of things, but I can't allow a man in the prime of life to be used as a backwards country sacrifice." He pushed away from the circle, and carefully examined the chain around Noct's left wrist. "Oh, this is easy enough to break."

"You can't," Noct said. "Don't, this'll fuck everything up, you-" He gasped as the man gripped the length of chain in both hands and yanked painfully, bending one of the links out of line. As he picked at it with his fingers, Noct lifted a foot and kicked out at his knees.

"None of that," the man said idly, sidestepping him as Noct kicked again. "Honestly, one would think you'd be grateful."

The chain snapped, and Noct wrapped his fingers around the hook instead, holding on tight. The man only rolled his eyes and saw to the second chain. When they were both off, spilling onto the ground with a clatter of metal, Noct glared the man down and kept his hands in place.

"Go on," the man said. He flapped his hands like one would to shoo off a bird. "Go home."

"No," Noct said. 

"I'm telling you to go home," the man said. "You're free."

"And I'm telling you I'm not," Noct snapped back. 

The man stared at him for a long moment. Finally, just as the greyness of dusk gave way to the cool blue of true evening, his look of well-meaning shock gave way to pure, unbridled pleasure. His lips peeled back in a smile, and Noct's fingers clenched on the hooks as he saw his incisors flash in the moonlight, too long and sharp to be fully human. 

"Oh, my dear boy," said the demon king. "You are a _wonder."_


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't know why they insist on giving you to me without shoes on." The demon king walked purposefully down the hill towards the old hall, holding Noct as one would a bride, with Noct’s legs dangling over the side of one arm. The robe had dropped to pool at Noct's waist, and he tried not to look down at the scant inches of fabric covering his thighs. "Do they think I employ a cobbler? I've spent the last few weeks working myself to the bone, I'll have you know, making sure the hall is clean enough to walk on."

"Oh," Noct whispered. "Thanks?" He wondered if he'd have to pay him back for that. He wondered how. No one had said anything about what his servants were supposed to do. 

"Think nothing of it. And these robes! Tell me they weren’t your decision."

Noct shifted in his hold, looking back over his shoulder at the small shape of the circle at the top of the hill. "I, uh. I normally wear black."

"Do you?" The demon king flashed him another unsettling smile. "I may have something for you to wear after all. Though I imagine the sight of you wandering the halls in the altogether would be a treat in and of itself." His fingers splayed out under Noct's legs, and Noct couldn't suppress a shiver. "Ah, I should tell you, before we get there. You may hear some of my... subjects... call me Ardyn, or Sire. That isn't what you will call me."

Noct's heart hammered in his chest, uncomfortably hard and fast. 

" _You_ will call me Master."

-

Ardyn set Noctis down as soon as they reached the front steps of the great hall, which was made of dark grey stone, dappled with moonlight against the shadow of the scraggly trees that boxed it in on either side. The steps were indeed polished, and Noct had to take care not to slip as he followed the demon king up to the large wooden doors. The same rune inked on Noct’s breast was carved into the iron frame, and Noct’s footsteps slowed to a halt as the doors opened to a blinding light.

“Come, pet,” Ardyn said. Noct ground his teeth at the endearment, but he could feel the weight of his hometown’s future at his back, pushing him up the last few steps and into the golden glow of the great hall. 

Applause greeted him. He stumbled, blinking hard in the light of what looked like a thousand candles, magnified by mirrors and bits of glass that dangled from the ceiling on silk-thin ropes. On either side of him, lining the entrance hall, were at least two dozen… people, Noct supposed he could call them. They all wore clothes of varying centuries, and some of them looked like a child’s drawing of a human brought to life rather than any person Noct had known, but they were all staring at him, all grinning, all laughing.

“Behold,” Ardyn said. He turned to Noct and extended a hand, dipping down in a mocking bow. “The village savior.”

Noct bit down the hot, metallic taste of fear on his tongue as the applause rose to a cacophonous shout. 

“But I wonder.” The demon king walked around Noctis, examining him with the air of an actor. “Is this any way for a fetching hero to dress?”

Ugly laughter rippled across the hall, discordant as the ringing of a finger tracing the rim of a glass. 

“No,” Ardyn said. “I believe this will have to go.” He stepped back. “Let’s help the poor man, my dears.”

Noct barely had time to cry out before they were upon him. Hands tugged at his robes, pulled at his hair, brushed around the bare line of his neck, too many at once to ward off. He couldn’t help but lash out, but their grip was like steel, and their faces—too close, too bright, too inhumanly beautiful for Noct to bear—pressed up in a chaos of wide grins and sharp teeth. He was aware of the moment he was stripped down, but he hardly tried to cover himself before a shirt was pushed over his head, with wide black sleeves and an open front. A stiff leather kilt followed after, then a heavy chain and a cloak at his shoulders that smelled musty and old. His hands were held still as rings were placed on every finger, and a young woman with wild blond hair placed a laurel crown on his head. When they were done, Noct stood alone in the hall before Ardyn, dressed up like one of his friend’s paper dolls, shaking with humiliation and a burning, overwhelming fury. 

“Perfect,” Ardyn said. “Now, pet, what do we say?”

Noct closed his eyes. For a few seconds, he let the town burn. Let the crops fail, let the beasts and the monsters come, let his friends disappear one by one with the blood drained from their bodies. Let it become a ghost town, like so many that dotted the border of their country. Then he opened his eyes and saw Ardyn watching at him, his reddish-mauve hair tinged gold with candlelight.

“Thank you,” Noct said, in the breathless silence of the hall. “Master.”

The laughter returned, bright and terrible, but it was Ardyn’s triumphant smile that was the worst of them all.

-

The rings weighed Noct’s hands down when he lifted them to card through his hair, settling loose strands that had been mussed in the hall. The cloak was inordinately heavy as well, lined with matted fur and trailing on the ground as he walked. Ardyn was leading him down an underground corridor beneath the main hall, where the demons—the _vampires,_ as Luna had called them, once—laughed and shared stories of Ardyn’s _other_ hapless servants. He could still hear them, sometimes, in a spike of laughter or the boom of doors opening, and it made him flinch each time.

Before him, Ardyn was still talking.

“While I have you,” Ardyn said, “your responsibilities are… well. Whatever I assign you.” He glanced back at Noctis and winked. “If you are a good pet, you get to stay in my rooms, where you’ll eat food that would make the kings of your time weep just to taste, and take long, fragrant baths, and provide to my needs whenever they do arise. If you are _bad,_ there is plenty of work in the hall that needs attending to. None of it particularly pleasant. Say _yes, Master_ if you understand.”

Noct gritted his teeth. “Yes, Master.”

“Good boy.” 

Ardyn stopped at an iron door and nodded to Noct, who carefully lifted the latch and pushed it open. Ardyn walked past him into the most ornately decorated room Noct had ever seen, full of elegant, colorful furniture, rows of brass figurines, and intricate tapestries. Ardyn stopped at the foot of a beautiful, massive bed, and motioned for Noct to close the door. Noct stepped in and closed it, but made no move to go any closer. 

“You must love your village,” Ardyn said. 

Noct shrugged, forcing the lie. “They’re okay.”

“Call it a hunch,” Ardyn said, leaning on the bed, “but I have a feeling that you don’t like me very much. Well, that’s fine. What matters is that you’re willing. _Are_ you?”

Noct curled his fingers around the short hem of the leather kilt. “Willing for what?” he asked.

“There it is.” Ardyn stepped away from the bed, and quicker than a viper darting through the grass, he was standing over Noct, casting him in shadow. “You’ll do what you must, but it doesn’t _excite_ you. Address me properly, pet.”

Noct took a breath to speak, but Ardyn interrupted him before he could make a sound.

“Not good enough.” Ardyn leaned down, and when he trailed his teeth over the skin of Noctis’ neck, it was as though a shock of cold water had rushed over Noct. “Who am I, to you? A demon? A… ha, a vampire? A fairytale, something that would never happen to _you,_ just to some other unlucky person who has to be chained to a rock so the town can be fat and happy for a few more years?”

He unpinned the hated cloak, which slithered to Noct’s feet. Then his teeth just pinched Noct’s flesh, and that chill ran through Noct again, lighting up his brain with mindless pleasure. He opened his mouth, unable to form the words.

“I don’t particularly care for your town,” Ardyn said. “Most of those you give to me are useless, screeching things, all tears and pleading and _Oh, my Lord, grant me your mercy.”_ He chuckled into Noct’s hair, and slid the laurel crown loose. “Do you know, my dear, how many of your forebears took the chance to run when they were freed from the sacrificial altar?”

Noct blinked up at him owlishly, and Ardyn lowered his voice.

“Do you know how far they ran before I caught them?”

“I didn’t run,” Noct said, in a shallow whisper.

“No, you didn’t. Brave little hero.” Ardyn laughed again, and in one rough motion, ripped Noct’s new shirt almost in two. He pushed it over his shoulders, bunching the fabric up in his arms, and ran a hand over Noct’s unblemished skin.

“Tonight,” he said, with a heat that made Noct’s hair raise at the back of his neck, “we will both find out what I am to you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Noctis crawled onto Ardyn’s expansive bed without looking back, all too aware of Ardyn’s gaze boring into him as he settled on the silk sheets. His new clothes were scattered on the floor, and he drew his legs up self-consciously as Ardyn, having only taken off his jacket, hat, and boots, placed a knee on the mattress.

“Bare your neck for me, my dear,” he said. Noctis squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed fistfuls of the sheets, turning his head to expose his neck. Then there was a groan of bedsprings, and a hand, large, calloused, rough with use, slid up from his belly to his collarbone, holding him down.

“This,” Ardyn whispered, “will feel _fantastic.”_

Noct’s eyes shot open at the twin stings of pain at his neck, but Ardyn’s hand on his chest kept him from jerking away. Then Ardyn pulled back, and Noct felt the trickle of blood start to well up from the puncture wounds. Before he could clap a hand to his neck to catch it, Ardyn sank back down, covered the wound with his lips, and—

It was like a river, he realized afterwards. A river in his body, unfurling at the warm, low spot just below his belly and twisting up towards his neck. Pleasure came with it, heady and strong, causing Noct’s legs to tense and his fingers to claw at the sheets, spilling a moan from his lips that sounded too strange and unfamiliar to his own ears. Ardyn’s free hand gripped Noct’s hair, tugging just enough to tip his chin back, and the hand on Noct’s chest traveled down, going against the current to palm Noct’s hardening cock.

“If it’s good,” Ardyn whispered, lips still pressed to Noctis’ neck, “then thank me properly, pet.”

Noct swallowed a hot stab of shame, and the pleasure spiked again, making his limbs tremble with the force of it. Ardyn’s hand on his member shifted up along his length, and the words tumbled out, twisted and strained.

“Thank you, Master,” Noct wailed. 

When it was done, Noct was writhing under Ardyn's touch, so lost that he didn’t notice the padded bandage Ardyn conscientiously placed over his wound. He felt unimaginably light, and the ceiling of the bedroom tipped and spun even though Noct was certain that he was holding himself firmly to the bed. Ardyn laughed again, but it didn’t seem so cruel this time, and when Noct turned to face him, he saw a pink flush gracing Ardyn’s pale cheeks.

“This is the best part,” he said, and kissed him, the stubble of his cheek scraping Noct’s skin.

Noct kissed him back, messily, falling under the guidance of Ardyn’s tongue and hands, trying to arch his back to rut against his thigh. Ardyn was warmer than he expected, and seemed to grow warmer still with every kiss, every touch. It was as though Ardyn’s body, filled with Noctis’ blood, was starting to remember how to feel and react like a human’s. 

Ardyn rolled off of Noct, and Noct held back a whine. He got a low chuckle for his trouble, and Ardyn returned with a jar of something, which he smeared over his fingers.

“If you want this,” he said, “open your legs and ask me.”

Noct’s thighs parted distressingly fast, and he had to stop several times before he could say it right.

“I want this,” he said. “You’re a monster, but I want this.”

“Yes, I’ll accept that,” Ardyn said, smiling wickedly as a slick finger traced up the curve of Noct’s ass. “What else am I?”

“A murderer.”

“Mm, that’s objective.” Ardyn pushed the tip of his finger into his entrance, and Noct tried to rock down, urging him deeper. “And?”

“You’re…”

Ardyn pumped his finger to the second knuckle and back, and the room spun, making Noct gasp for breath. “And I’m your…”

“Master,” Noctis sobbed. 

“Yes,” Ardyn breathed, and added a second finger.

When Ardyn finally entered Noct, the hot, blunt head of his cock pushing through his stretched rim, Noctis moaned so loud he figured even Ardyn’s subjects in the hall above could hear him. Ardyn boxed him in by his arms, leaning over him entirely as he thrust into him, and for a moment Noct could feel him _breathing._ Or trying to breathe, anyway, though he only ever really did it when he needed to thrust in deep, or speak, or laugh in Noctis’ ear.

“Say it,” Ardyn said, rocking his hips into Noct so hard that he pushed him back on the bed. “Say what I am to you.”

“Master,” Noct cried.

“Say it again.”

“Master.”

_“Again.”_

Every time Noct said the word, crying out at the insistent fullness of Ardyn’s cock, the rough pace, the heat of his body, it became a little easier to say. The shame was still there, a small, sick feeling in the back of his mind, but it lessened when Noct screamed it into Ardyn’s palm, and when Noct babbled it like a hedge-witch’s charm into the wide, beautiful room. It lost its meaning after a few minutes, just a string of syllables, _Master, Master,_ and Noct could no longer remember why it used to hurt to say. When Noct came, he did so with the word on his tongue, and Ardyn followed after him with a fond smile and a hand on his cheek.

“Good boy,” he said, as Noct wept silently in his arms, overwhelmed and dazed with pleasure. “Oh, you’ll be lovely, my pet. You’ll be so good for me.”

“Yes, Master,” Noct gasped. “Yes. Master, yes, yes, I…”

Ardyn shushed him, kissing his sweat-damp brow, and slowly pulled out of him. The demon king was still mostly clothed, his trousers undone just enough to free his length, and he repositioned himself before lying back down. Noctis instinctively rolled towards him. He knew he felt sore, knew that the dizziness was partly due to blood loss, knew that this would happen again, and again, until he wore out his usefulness… but he also found that a part of him didn’t care. Part of him wanted Ardyn to bite him again, to feed until he was drained and leave Noctis weak and spent. It was more than a little frightening, and Noct struggled to push it down.

“I daresay you’ve earned yourself a treat, my boy,” Ardyn said, petting Noct’s hair. “What do you say to that?”

“Thank you, Master,” Noct whispered, unthinking. Ardyn tipped back his head in a full-throated laugh. 

“Oh, pet,” he said, pulling Noctis in close to his warm, unmoving chest. “One day, if you aren't careful, you may well become my _favorite."_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It continues!

Ardyn had been right about the baths, at least. There was an entire room of them, with low, tiled tubs, some covered, others slick and steaming as they emptied out of brass drains. One was recently filled, the sharp, sour scent of hot spring water offset by the jasmine that floated in loose clumps over the surface. The tiles at the bottom were only just visible, depicting a group of stylized demons running in a loose pack over the painted grass. Noct’s feet slipped on the tile that covered the open maw of a wolf, its painted fangs dripping with blood, and he would have fallen completely if Ardyn hadn’t caught him under the arms and pulled him back.

“There we go,” Ardyn said. “I may have taken too much out of you this time. Dreadful oversight on my part.” He brushed a hand through Noctis’ bangs, and Noct felt rather than heard the laugh as he bent over him, eclipsing the light in a dreadful mockery of a blessing. Noct remembered Luna standing over him like that just hours before, when he’d knelt at the edge of town and let her place her thumb on his forehead, calling on the gods to sanctify their sacrifice.

He wondered where she was. Was she watching the hill, waiting for his silhouette to disappear from the stone circle? Was she with his father, trying to comfort him, to tell him whatever lies he needed to hear to keep him from walking to the old hall on his own? 

Hopefully his father would be okay. Noct had made arrangements with his friends, discreet promises to carry groceries and check in at least once a week, to make sure he didn’t close himself off, disappear in his grief like he had when Noct’s mother passed. 

“Hello.”

Noct jumped, sloshing water over the lip of the tub, and looked into the eyes of the wild-haired blonde from the main hall. The woman was wearing a gold dress with a high waistline, and held a tray stacked with grilled meat, leafy greens, and a mountain of strawberries. 

“Hey,” Noct said, after the silence stretched just a little too long. “That was quick.”

The young woman sighed and set the tray on the other side of the bath. “Then he took you already,” she said. Her gaze was fixed on his neck, and Noctis raised his fingers to brush the edge of the bandage.

“I don’t think _take_ is the right word.”

The woman sighed again, a whole-body slump that hunched her shoulders and made faint lines at the corners of her eyes. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t be good enough.” 

Noct edged back against the wall of the bath. “Uh. What would’ve happened then?”

“We would have had you in the hall,” she said. Her gaze shifted to meet Noct’s eyes, and another wave of dizziness struck him, as though the heat of the bath were making the air ripple and warp. “When the king is bored of you,” she said, padding closer to the tub, “may I have what’s left?”

“I don’t…” Noct tried to speak, but his tongue felt unnaturally heavy. He blinked, and the woman was stepping into the bath, the gold fabric of her dress fanning out in the still water. “I don’t think you…”

“It’s okay if you’re broken,” she said. Water was soaking through her dress, darkening it to a burnt orange. “I like broken things.”

Noct closed his eyes. As soon as he did, the fog in his mind started to clear, the hazy languor that spread through him giving way to tight adrenaline. He scrambled out of the bath without opening his eyes, wincing as his muscles protested, and his arms shook as he tried to hold himself upright. 

There was another long, expressive sigh, and the damp slosh of water on tile. “I do hate when they’re clever.”

When Noctis could risk opening his eyes again, the woman was standing over one of the empty tubs, wringing out her dress. She turned to look back at him, and he stared at her sodden shoes instead. 

“He only likes the pretty ones,” she said. Her voice was low and mournful. “You should remember that.”

Noct waited until the door closed, then ran for the long, white towels hanging on one side of the wall. Just one of them could wind around him twice and trail to his ankles, but he still looked furtively into the hallway before venturing out alone. The hallway was poorly lit, with no windows to give any idea of the time of night, and he passed Ardyn’s door twice before he could be sure it was the right one. 

“Tell me,” Ardyn said, as Noct pushed the door shut. “Do people in this century not believe in bathing?”

“Sure we do,” Noct said. He flinched away when Ardyn tugged at his towel, giving him a cursory once-over. “But we believe in not passing out in the water and drowning, too.” Now that he was thinking a little clearer, the reality of the past few hours was coming back to him in full, excruciating detail. He averted his eyes as he folded his towel, and slid under the blankets of Ardyn’s bed. When Ardyn’s shadow fell over him again, Noct deliberately closed his eyes. 

“Oh, pet,” Ardyn said. “It’s quaint, really, to think you can use the bed without permission.”

Cool hands slid under Noct’s body, and he thrashed as he was lifted out and dumped unceremoniously to the floor. Ardyn dusted off his hands and walked over to his desk, where a thick book and an inkwell were set out. Noct groaned and forced himself to his feet, but the room tilted, and he reached for the bedpost. Ardyn gave him a sharp look, and he hurriedly snatched his hand away.

“Alright,” he said. “ _May_ I use the bed?” Ardyn waited, brows raised, until Noct said, “Master.”

“Let’s see.” Ardyn shook out a pen over his inkwell. “You didn’t finish bathing. You clearly didn’t eat. It seems you need to be well-fucked to remain sufficiently obedient—which, might I add, would be frankly exhausting on my part—No. No, I don’t believe you _will_ have use of the bed tonight.” He turned to his book.

“Then where am I supposed to—“

“Be creative,” Ardyn said. Noct stared at him, waiting for him to continue, but Ardyn only started writing in the book, his pen scratching away at the thick paper. Noct sighed and examined the room. There was a couch, sort of, one of those odd backless ones that were meant for swooning women in romance novels, but Noct had a feeling that furniture was probably off limits. That ruled out throwing cushions on the floor as well, probably…

He looked at the remains of his new clothes, scattered on the floor where Ardyn had left them, and up at the door to Ardyn’s spare closet.

After a minute, Ardyn set down his pen. 

“Need I ask,” he said, in a voice that held only one withering strand of patience, “ _what_ you think you’re doing, pet?”

“Making a bed,” Noct said, dropping another one of Ardyn’s elaborate vests onto the pile of plush, priceless clothing. Ardyn snapped his fingers, and Noct almost looked up, then forced himself to focus on Ardyn’s shoulder instead. 

“Look at me,” Ardyn said, in a low voice. Noctis closed his eyes. The chair creaked as it was pushed away, and hands were on his chin, holding his head in place. “Pet,” Ardyn said, and peeled back the bandage on his neck, fingertips brushing the raised marks his teeth left behind. “Look at me.”

Noctis opened his eyes. 

“Where,” Ardyn asked, “did you learn not to—“ His voice faded. Noct blinked, unnaturally slow, and felt Ardyn’s fingers shift under his chin, heard his own voice booming in his ears, too low and loud to understand. Then Ardyn let go, and Noct was being held to his chest, shaking as Ardyn’s laugh echoed around him. 

“She’ll be dead by morning,” Ardyn said. 

“Wait, who?” Noct asked, but Ardyn only laughed again. Then he set Noctis down on the edge of the bed, pressed his mouth to the exposed bite on his neck, and left him.

“Stay,” Ardyn said. “I’ll be back with _your_ dinner before you know it.” And then the door closed shut, and Noctis was left alone in the demon king’s bedroom, with the world whirling under him and the book on Ardyn’s desk left open, the ink on the page barely dry.


	5. Chapter 5

Ardyn’s command for Noctis to _stay_ was easy to follow. Noct was asleep within minutes, lost in the flickering firelight and the warmth of the bed. He remembered waking to Ardyn’s low, amused laugh, to taking strips of meat from his fingers, too tired to do more than mumble when Ardyn asked, _And what do we say?_ Then there was softness, a slide of silk, and the dark swallowed him.

He woke to screaming.

It was a high, grating scream, the kind Noctis had only heard once, when he was ten years old and Luna’s brother, Ravus, had lost his arm. He’d injured it while playing at being swordsmen with Gladio, swinging around the blades the priestesses kept in the back of the temple. By the time Gladio carried him to the doctor, a full five miles in the summer heat from the edge of town, there was no saving his arm. Noctis sat in the waiting room with Gladio and Luna, and they all jumped at the sound of Ravus’ anguished cry when he woke. He’d never been the same after that: It was like with that scream, he’d let out some part of himself, winding off into the high wind. He’d disappeared a year later, and as Luna shouted into the dark and adults spoke of search parties and monsters in the wilds, Noctis knew he would never return.

This cry was much the same. Noctis scrambled out of Ardyn’s empty bed, threw on the shredded remains of his new clothes, and flung open the door. The scream had subsided into broken wails, harsh and rough-edged, like the person crying out was losing their voice. Noct raced down the hall, pushed himself off to go stumbling into the main entranceway, and found a loose ring of people from the night before standing at the great oak doors. 

“Almost dawn,” One of them said. 

“The king’s pet is out,” said another.

The screaming came from the other side of the door, where a muddled golden light was seeping through the cracks. Noct pushed past the crowd of demons, earning more than one stern look, and grabbed at one of the handles. There was a hush of fabric, and a voice, lightly accented and rather young, called out.

“Let him.” 

Noctis pulled at the door, and the crowd fell back, retreating from the soft light that began to spread across the stone. A hand snaked out between the crack Noct had made, twisted and scrabbling like a spider, and caught Noct’s sleeve like a lifeline. 

“Sire,” the person begged, in a hoarse croak. “Sire, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I never—“ Their voice broke into a sob as the door finally swung open, and the woman who had approached Noct in the baths tumbled onto the floor, limbs shaking. Her skin was patchy and red, and the ends of her hair curled with tiny specks of fire. 

“Please,” she cried. “The door. Close the door!”

Noct looked up in time to see the sun rising, bright and gold, above the horizon. Then he shoved the door shut. It took a terribly long time, long enough for him to hear the scrape of bone beneath him, long enough for the demon to cling at his legs, to seek out the shadow of his body. Long enough to hear one more rattling sob before the door banged shut.

The night before, Noctis had walked to the hill overlooking town and let himself be strapped to an altar. He’d bared his neck for a demon and slept in their bed. But this, turning around to face what was left of the woman from the baths, was possibly the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“I’m ruined, aren’t I?” she whispered, through lips pulled taut over a grisly, inhuman mask of fang and bone.

“Look upon a hero’s mercy.” Ardyn’s voice rang through the hall, and the demons in the shadows stepped forward, forming a loose path for their king. He was resplendent in a rose-patterned vest and sharp black pants, and his hair was tied back out of his eyes. He smiled at Noctis, but there was no warmth there. “It’s such a rare thing, after all.”

The hands on Noct’s legs tugged sharply, and his knees buckled as Ardyn approached. The demon before him would have killed him without a thought, last night. It would have been right to let that kind of monster die. He could do it now, open the doors before Ardyn and the others had time to react, bring the sun down on them all and run home. 

Noct sank to his knees and drew the woman into his arms. She wasn’t breathing, and the skin of her neck and back flaked away as Noct’s fingers passed over it. 

Ardyn clicked his teeth.

“You’ll live,” he said. “Wear gloves and a veil, perhaps, and you’ll be back to your charming self within a few centuries.” His gaze passed over Noctis and settled on a pair of young men. “You’re hers? Take her, if you will. She’s ruining my dear hero’s new clothes.”

The men crept forward, refusing to look Noct or Ardyn in the eye, and gently pried the woman out of Noct’s grip. She clung to them, shuddering, and was carried off into the shadows of the hall. 

The toe of a boot nudged Noct’s chin, turning his head towards Ardyn. “You didn’t have to—“

“She tried to touch what’s mine,” Ardyn said, in a slow, bored drawl. He leaned down, resting his foot on Noct’s thigh. “In case you’ve forgotten, my boy, that’s you.” 

Noctis found it suddenly very difficult to catch his breath. Ardyn stood over him, a dark shadow in fine clothes and an actor’s smile, and for just a moment, the expression in his eyes shifted. He bent further to speak in Noct’s ear. 

“If you’re clever enough,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll survive. But a word of advice? I’ve never known a hero who wasn’t also a hapless fool, in the end. Bear that in mind, will you?” 

Then he straightened, and his drawl was back, just as lazy and unaffected as before. He held out a hand, and Noct dragged himself to his feet. “Come, pet. As always, the fate of your town rests on your capable shoulders.”

Someone in the crowd scoffed, but when Noct looked up, all he saw was a man turning aside, a shock of white hair trailing down his back. 

Ardyn proceeded to give him a long, rambling tour of the hall, during which Noct learned the shape of his life to come. There was the back door, where Noct was to wait at exactly ten am for a representative from a neighboring town to arrive. The representative in question had wiry, muscular arms and a long mane of white hair, and when she saw Noct step out of the darkness of the back archway, she tipped back her head and laughed, flashing sharp teeth and blood-red lips. 

“Never thought I’d see a familiar again,” she said, handing Noctis two heavy packages. “How long has it been? Sixty years? What’s your name, kid?”

“Noct.” It hit him, then, that no one else had even bothered to ask. The woman smiled and winked.

“Aranea. Thank the gods I won’t have to talk to _that_ asshole for a while. Tell him I said hey, I grovel at his feet, the usual.” 

“Uh, sure.” Noct waved as Aranea hopped back onto her cart, and flinched when she let out an ear-piercing whistle. Wolves emerged from the trees on either side, and as they leapt into the cart, they shifted midway, turning into human men and women in the same dark uniform as Aranea’s. They laughed and jostled each other as the cart slowly wheeled around the drive, and Noct took a little longer than necessary to watch them go. 

Then there was the kitchen. Noct was allowed in _there_ for about five minutes before the resident chef threw up his hands and told Ardyn that the only way Noct would be allowed within thirty feet of him is if he had a bucket and mop. They moved on to the baths, which Noct was supposed to fill to Ardyn’s specifications, and the library, where he was to keep careful stock of pens, ink, and bound, empty books for Ardyn to fill. Then the throne, which needed to be dusted, and the boot closet, where he had to polish Ardyn’s shoes, and the laundry, and, to Noct’s surprise, a set of fishing rods. 

“You’re alright with me just going outside?” Noct asked, as they wandered back to Ardyn’s rooms. Ardyn shrugged. 

“You won’t go far,” he said. “Now. Let’s see how well you paid attention, shall we? I believe I require a bath.”

“Oh.” The smile froze on Ardyn’s face, and Noct said, “Yes, Master.”

“ _Good._ You have, oh, ten minutes.”

It took fifteen. Noct watched in growing panic as Ardyn opened the door, saw Noct still hadn’t filled the largest bath, and slowly walked to the other door. The sound of the door bolting shut was impossibly loud. Ardyn began unbuttoning his vest, theatrically slow, and Noct let the flower blossoms in the sachet he’d grabbed from the wall go whirling around the tap as Ardyn began to undress. 

His shoulders were larger than Noct expected, firm with muscle and crossed with long, white scars. There was a burn on his left shoulder in the shape of one of Luna’s favorite runes: Protection, a call for the gods to purify and shield their subjects from demonic influences. He wondered if it was a sick joke, or an open mockery of the gods’ power. There were no other marks or scars, save for a few more lines along his back, so faint they disappeared in the steam off the bath. 

Ardyn turned, and despite his best efforts, Noct couldn’t look away.

“You may go,” Ardyn said, and Noct fumbled with the tap to turn it off before the bath overflowed. Ardyn’s smile was a little too knowing as he walked past, fingers trailing in Noct’s hair. “Unless you’d rather join me?”

It struck Noct later, as he explored Ardyn’s chest and neck with his tongue, that Ardyn was probably giving him a chance to say no. 

“Oh, gods,” he said, shifting in Ardyn’s lap. “I’m going straight to hell.”

“Nonsense,” Ardyn said. He gripped Noct’s ass in both hands. “I find it’s more of a winding path.” He pressed his lips to Noctis’ neck, and a thrill of pleasure rushed through Noct at the touch. 

“You aren’t gonna…” He gasped at the sharp sting of teeth. “How often do you…”

“Once or twice a week at most,” Ardyn said. “At the moment, I prefer you alive.”

“Nice of you,” Noct said. He kissed Ardyn’s jaw. 

“Yes, I expect it is.” Ardyn grabbed Noct by the hips and turned him around, pinning him to the side of the bath. “I could stand to hear a little more gratitude, pet.”

“Noct.”

“That isn’t _thank you, Master,_ ” Ardyn said, with a smile. 

“I know,” Noct said. “It’s my name. Noct. Noctis Luc—“

A broad hand clamped over Noct’s mouth. “For gods’ sakes, boy, I didn’t ask for your name.” Ardyn waited for a moment before dragging his hand down, letting his fingertips linger over Noct’s mouth. “I asked for gratitude.”

Noct sighed. “Tha—“ he started, but then Ardyn’s fingers slipped past his parted lips, pressing down on his tongue. He finished the words anyways, earning a laugh, and groaned as Ardyn’s cock slid along the cleft of his ass. Water spilled over the tiles at his back when Ardyn entered him. Ardyn kept him still with a thumb on his jaw and two fingers in his mouth, and Noct was close to sobbing when he came, half sprawled on the floor of the baths with his mouth open and legs locked tight around Ardyn’s middle. Ardyn kept going, pushing Noct over the brink, and tenderly kissed his brow. 

“There we are,” he whispered. “My dear little hero.”


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Noct was given a uniform.

As far as fashion went, it was a disaster. The sleeves were too wide, the pants tight enough to chafe, and, as always, he was missing anything resembling a pair of decent shoes. Still, clothes were clothes, so Noct shimmied into them and tried to ignore Ardyn’s appraising gaze from the desk.

“It’s dawn,” Ardyn said, when Noct stood there in awkward silence, drowning in silk. “I expect mortals are hungry at about this time.”

He wasn’t, but Noct backed out of Ardyn’s room all the same, wary of Ardyn’s dismissive tone. He met no one in the halls on his way to the kitchen, and sent a small prayer to the gods that the irritable chef from the day before hadn’t come in yet.

When Noct opened the kitchen door to a blast of warmth from the ovens, he suspected that the gods might have been holding a personal grudge.

The chef looked almost human, with light, sandy hair and pink scar tissue over one eye. His left eye was sealed shut, but the right opened at Noct's approach, a milky-white cast over a pupil that roved for the light. The skin of his neck was rough and pebbled, and when he tilted his head towards Noct, the faintest outline of scales stood out under his collar.

"Soot's piled up in the oven again," he said, in lieu of a greeting. "Clear that out and I'll see to your breakfast."

Noct grabbed one of the large burlap sacks hanging by a pile of half-empty bags of soot, and headed over to the banked oven on the other side of the room. The chef kept an ear trained on him, barely paying mind to the potatoes frying on the skillet. When he shifted to follow Noct's progress, he stumbled, and there was a scraping drag of metal on stone.

A heavy iron shackle hung around one of the chef's ankles, attached to a link of chain secured firmly to the floor.

"Hey," Noct said. The last time he was there, he hadn't seen the chain in the midst of Ardyn's grand, sweeping explanations. "Your, uh..."

"Admiring the jewelry?" the man asked. He lifted his shackled foot, and the chain clattered. "Never you mind. I won't be escaping any time soon."

"Don't you want to?" Noct asked. When the man smiled, light shone in the cracks of his teeth. 

"What a question. What I want... What any of us want... is beside the point. Soot by the wall, _thank_ you."

Noct hauled the sack to a bare patch of floor while the chef tipped potatoes onto a wooden plate. The chef snaked a hand under the pan, grabbed a glowing ember, and popped it in his mouth with every sign of quiet pleasure.

"What are you?" Noct asked.

The chef held the plate in Noct's direction, and Noct took it carefully. "Your people no longer have a name for what I am. But you may call me Ignis, if you must."

"I'm Noct."

"Charmed," Ignis said, and picked out another cherry-red ember. 

They ate standing up, Noct silently eating as much as possible to avoid mentioning how strange it was to see Ignis dig through a fire pit like someone choosing chocolates from a box. 

"You may go ahead and do your other tasks after this," Ignis said, as Noct went to the sink. "Gods know you'll need the time you have. But come by when you're hungry. The more you eat, the more _I_ do. Just don't touch anything. I know a disaster in the kitchen when I meet one."

He smiled at Noct, and a scar tugged at his upper lip. 

"Oh, Noct?" he added, when Noct turned for the door. "If you want to impress him, try polishing the throne. Ardyn loves being on display."

"Why do you call him Ardyn?" Noct asked. "Everyone else calls him Sire, or Your Majesty." 

Or Master.

Ignis shrugged again, and breathed on the dying fire. A wave of heat rolled over the embers, bringing them to life, and Ignis straightened with a jingle of chains. 

"Not my king," he said, and turned from Noct, the scales at his neck glowing red in the light of the fire.

The boot closet was a nightmare. Noct emerged an hour after breakfast with his fingers stained by polish, elbows aching, and half the boots in a semi-glossy state of disarray. He'd never even considered how to clean boots before, and it showed. He just hoped that Ardyn didn't have a reason to change his shoes any time soon.

Aranea didn't show with any packages that morning, so Noct took the time to stand outside, staring up the hill towards the old stone circle. It was odd, stepping out into the sun when all his world seemed to have narrowed to encompass only the hall, the night, and Ardyn. The birdsong in the bushes rang false, the heat of the sun beat too harsh, and even the scent of blossoms on the wind felt like nothing more than a distant dream. 

He sat on the steps for a long while, fiddling with the sleeves of his expensive shirt, before returning to the shade of the hall.

Noct was ready to crawl back to bed by the time he made it to the throne. It was high-backed, with grooves and carvings all along it that seem designed solely to gather dust. Noct polished an entire arm of it before he dropped his supplies on the dais and climbed behind the throne, leaning his back against the wall. There, the only way anyone could see him would be if they were to walk right up to the dais. He settled down and closed his eyes, propping his feet on the back of the throne.

"Master, see reason."

Noct sat up with a jolt. The voice that echoed across the entrance hall was cold and light, with the hint of a drawl from the hills of Northern Tenebrae. They sounded young, maybe close to Noct's age, but the man who responded had the rasping quaver of a man in his later years, with an accent Noct couldn't quite place. 

"We are guests of his majesty, my dear," the older man said. Footsteps sounded, the click of boots approaching down the polished floor. "It is customary to stay a week after the king has accepted his sacrifice."

"And what a sacrifice," the younger man said. There was a faint gasp of laughter.

"I find him diverting. Did you see the way he shielded that poor creature from the sun?"

"It was a waste of effort." The younger man's voice shook. "Has he no pride? He called his majesty _Master_ on the first night, he debases himself for trifles, he questions nothing..."

"I recall a young man who went to his knees for much less than the price of a village."

"Only once, Master."

"If that's what you'd like to believe, dear Fleuret, who am I to argue?"

Noct couldn't help it. His foot slipped off the back of the throne, banging on the stone floor. He tried to sit up, to stand, but there was a rush of footsteps, and a pale hand gripped his shirtfront and dragged him out into the light.

Noctis looked up into the face of a ghost.

"No," he gasped. 

"Hello, Noct," said Ravus Nox Fleuret, brother to the priestess who had sanctified Noct's sacrifice. His hair was longer than Noct remembered, slipping down his shoulders like silk, and his eyes--No. His eyes were the same. One blue, one green, framed by long lashes. It was only the thinly-veiled disgust that made him look like a stranger.

Noct grabbed at Ravus' arm just as Ravus let go, and nearly dragged him down in his hurry to rise. "What the hell are you doing _here?_ " 

"I don't answer to you," Ravus said, wrenching his arm back. Behind him, an old man in impeccable red and white robes watched with faint amusement, gaze flicking between them.

"Fine," Noct said. "Answer to Luna. The hell are you doing, Ravus?"

"Ravus?" the old man said. "Is that his name?" 

Ravus winced.

"That's right," Noct said. "Ravus N--" he slipped as a hand clamped over his mouth, and he had to reach behind him to grab the throne for support. Ravus crowded him up against it, but there was no rush of hot breath, no warmth to his cheek.

"Don't," Ravus hissed, "give him my _name._ " He pushed back, leaving Noct half collapsed on the side of the throne.

"Why? Ashamed of it? What about Luna?" Noct asked. "She's been waiting years for you. Years. And you're... You ran off to _them?_ "

"He didn't run," the older man said, still smiling. "Not quite. No, our dear little flower came to us on his own. He wanted strength, and strength we certainly provided."

Noct turned to stare at Ravus, who was examining the foot of the throne. "You're one of them," he said. Ravus turned aside. "Fuck, R--fuck. You're _one_ of them."

"Better than being their slave," Ravus said.

"I'm not--" Noct glanced down at his fingers, smudged with polish and dirt and soot, his wrinkled sleeve, his cracked nails. Then he stepped forward, swung Ravus around, and hit him full in the face.

It barely pushed Ravus back more than a step, but Noct had trained with Gladio after Ravus ran off, and he knew how to put force behind his blows. That Ravus wasn't even shaken was worrying. He sidestepped, reading the lines of fury in Ravus' stance, and braced himself on the dais.

"I came here to save our people," Noct said. "You came here because you're too much of a _coward_ to face--"

Ravus' blow came too fast, a blur of movement in the still air of the throne room. Noct reeled, foot connecting with the front of the throne, and fell into the seat. He held onto the carved arms of the throne for support and leaned forward.

"So I'm right. You're a coward," he said. "You're not strong enough to protect us, so you join the daemons. Good fucking logic, Rav."

"Oh, dear," said the older man. Noct and Ravus turned to find him staring up at Noctis, shock in his tired eyes, one hand on the clasp of his robes. Noct sat up a little straighter, and Ravus rocked on his feet.

"Oh, _dear,_ " the older man said again, and laughed.

"Master, what..." Ravus started.

"You don't see it?" the man asked. He extended a finger towards Noct. "The line of the jaw. The ridiculous smile he makes when he doesn't know he's beaten. Oh, my sweet child." He looked Noct in the eyes, and Noct's world narrowed to the older man's face, smiling and cold. "I know who _you_ are. You're a Caelum."

At the sound of his name, Noct felt a thrill run through his blood. The man nodded.

"Caelum," he said again. "What did my flower call you? Noct? Noct Caelum, rise."

Noct had to clutch the arms of the throne to force his body from obeying the command. The compulsion pushed at his awareness, just this side of painful, and he grit his teeth as his feet twisted on the cold floor.

The man sighed. "Not quite, then," he said, and looked away. Noct sagged on the throne, his breath leaving him in one ragged gasp. "Still, what a coincidence. I believe," he said, looking to Ravus, "that you may find this next week more interesting than you thought."

For a moment, the look Ravus gave Noct was stricken. Then he rallied, smoothing his face into blankness, and turned aside.

"You would know best, Master," he said, and they walked off, leaving Noct alone, sweating and breathless, on the throne of the ancient king.


End file.
